


Side Bet

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: Heart Break Beat [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Heart Break Beat AU, Incest, Multi, Non-Consensual, Pool & Billiards, Prostitution mention, heart break beat, kind of, seung-gil is a weirdo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: A collection of side stories & oneshots from the Heart Break Beat Universe. Read what you like & discontinue any time.Seung-Gil made his skin crawl. He was always wanted to come in and work on something when he was about to take a shower, or had just gotten back from the gym. If Michele couldn’t cover up before he barged in, he’d watch him with hungry eyes as he moved to find a t-shirt.“Michele,” he speaks. There’s a lilt there, bemused and dangerous. It makes his skin crawl. It’s the feeling that he normally gets when Sara’s doing a job. It’s the feeling that he gets in the split seconds before he punches them out, and makes Sara steal their wallet. “I think we’ve come to an agreement about the rent.”





	Side Bet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoodleLeeDoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleLeeDoo/gifts).



“Mickey,” the way that Sara calls his name sounds like the wind chimes she hung out on the balcony. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, folding clothes and filling her large cherry wood chifferobe. Meticulously, she snips tags off of each garment, which she retrieves from a rainbow of assorted shopping bags splayed out on the bed. “Rent is due soon.”

“So,” he says looking at the clothes and the new makeup that litters the top of her dresser. “Do something about it,” quickly, he bolsters his argument, “I’ve bought groceries two weeks in a row, not to mention the money I gave you for the electric bill.”

Sara opens her mouth to speak but he keeps talking. “It got turned off because you didn’t pay the bill.”

“Mickey,” she pouts. “I thought you didn’t like it when I did a job by myself.”

Michele visibly stiffens at the comment. Then he’s pulled back to reality by a pink striped lingered shop bag among the numerous others. He dumps it out onto the bed, eyeing at least a dozen or so pairs of lace underwear. “Yeah, and I’ve seen all the overdrawn receipts crumple dup in the ashtray of the car. There’s no way you paid for any of this. You’ve already been doing jobs.”

“Mickey, you know he doesn’t-“

“Make it go away Sara!” It pains him to have to do this to her, but what else _can_ he do? He can’t _stop_ her from making friends with men, and going on dates. He can’t stop her from giving them hand jobs in the back seat of his Mitsubishi, or fucking strangers in ~~their~~ his bed.

All of it upsets him so much that he kneels on the floor, presses his head to her lap, and begs “Sara please, I need you.”

She pushes the rest of the bags off of the bed in a paper and fabric cascade. She feels wet when he presses inside. _Used._

* * *

It’s the fifth of the month. Sara hasn’t asked any of her dates for rent money. She thought about asking one. The owner of the sporting goods store was loaded, but then Mickey ruined it. Her date dropped her off, and Mickey was outside the complex looking so fine. He was shirtless and wearing the jeans she bought with money given to her by that very man. At the time, it made her laugh into her hand. 

Mickey grabbed her up as soon as they pulled into the lot. He made a big deal of kissing her, and squeezing her ass in front of him.

So in the meantime, she’s spent the past few days avoiding Mama Lee at all costs. She comes home late, and she leaves through the fire escape midmorning.

There’s a pounding on the door, swift and deft that suggests that it isn’t Michele, and it isn’t her date, some construction site manager that she wasn’t even going to fuck. With him, it would be easy. She’d just wind him up and ask for money.

Sara looks out the peep hole. She smiles and shimmies with glee, glad that she’s dressed for her Seung-Gil’s visit.

Sara opens the door in her lilac colored lace teddy. She slips into her Lucite heels, because she always keeps a pair by the door for this very occasion. You never know who is going to drop in. “Seung-Gil!” He’s a vision today. He always is. Today he’s wearing a purple red paisley sweater vest with a contrasting polka dot undershirt, and tight slacks that fit him like a glove. God, she can’t even be facetious about the shirt, the pants look damn good. Mama Lee was a shrew, and a slumlord, and a fucking bitch. She did everything above and beyond her power to chase women away from her son, but even the prints couldn’t hide Seung-Gil away completely.

There was something about him, course but desirable, virginal but so ready to be irrevocably ruined.

“It’s so good to see you,” she leans into him, exposing more skin through sheer fabric. She touches his chest lightly.

He flinches upon contact. “Rent is due. This is the third month in a row you’ve been late.” He adds quickly, “You wore that one when I came by for rent last month by the way.”

This might not be the first time she’s tried it, but _this_ is the time she’ll be successful. She can _feel_ it.

“We don’t have the money, but if there were anything I could do.” Her eyes are lidded and her lips are pouty. It’s all so easy to do when she actually wants. God, does she want. Her mouth waters, and everything feels warm and wet in her lace panties. It’s going to be so fucking fun when she sees Mama Lee out in the courtyard and…

He places his long cold hand over hers and wrenches her hand from his body.

“I thought I made myself clear last time, but I suppose you’re too dense. I’m not interested in you. I’m not interested in any woman, other than mother.”

“That’s fucking weird,” Sara spits back. “Also, fix the fucking shower and the kitchen light you fucking slumlords.”  

“You sleep with your brother,” Seung Gil gestures to the only bed in the apartment. “Pay your rent for once on time. Stop whoring yourself out in mother’s property and…” he interrupts himself, catches his lower lip in his teeth, chews at his bottom lip.

In her current disappointed and disheveled state, Sara is uncertain if it’s still endearing and attractive, or flat out repulsive.

“If your brother made a similar offer, we could talk business.” Seung-Gil turns on his heel to go, the little leather tassels on his loafers swing with the motion of his hips. “Oh, but,” he looks back at her over his shoulder. “If you keep trying with me I’ll have mother evict you.”

“Wait,” There’s no way she’s letting him do this to her. Not unless she can get a piece of the action. “Whatever Mickey does, I do.”

“Like fuck all the men you bring over here?”

“He helps with that,” Sara responds. “This is Mickey’s first job. He should have someone walk him through it.”

“He doesn’t seem to need anyone to talk him through it when he blows that guy with a beard back behind the consignment store.”

Sara’s eyes go wide.

“I know because mother buys me all of my clothes there.”

* * *

Michele hoped that Sara took care of everything that afternoon with the new job she was telling him about. Sara said she wasn’t going to fuck him either. Even better.

It would be so good, if she got the full amount too. That way he could use his next paycheck on something nice. Maybe he and Sara could take the bus across the state line and go to the casino. Maybe they could go to the city and go shopping and get dinner at a nice restaurant alongside a bottle of wine.

Lost in his own thoughts, Mickey didn’t notice the multi-patterned monster walking across the courtyard. When he did, Mickey was trapped out in no man’s land. He couldn’t sneak behind the dumpster like he normally did, nor could he walk back around and up the fire escape.

Worse still, Seung-Gil had a smile on his face. It’s really creepy. His jaw is clenched and his lips are pursed tight, and something just seems _wrong_ despite the way the corners of his mouth turn upward into a grin. Seung-Gil made his skin crawl. He was always wanted to come in and work on something when he was about to take a shower, or had just gotten back from the gym.

If Michele managed to cover up in time, he wouldn’t really fix much of anything, just stare at whatever it was that was broken, and glare daggers at him from the corner of his eye. If Michele couldn’t cover up before he barged in, he’d watch him with hungry eyes as he moved to find a t-shirt.

“Michele,” he speaks. There’s a lilt there, bemused and dangerous. It makes his skin crawl. It’s the feeling that he normally gets when Sara’s doing a job. It’s the feeling that he gets in the split seconds before he punches them out, and makes Sara steal their wallet. “I think we’ve come to an agreement about the rent.”   

Seung Gil led him to his apartment…His mother’s apartment on the third floor.  Facing the entrance of the complex, Mama Lee could sit out on the patio in her rocker. She could Judge everyone, find rent dodgers, and look down upon everyone.

The entire apartment smells like smoke and the thick acrid scent of incense as if someone kept burning it to get rid of the cigarette smell. The carpeted floors are covered by vermillion colored ottoman style rugs with cheap frayed fringe. It looks fucking stupid. The soles of his shoes seem to stick to the carpet.

Upon entry, there are a pair of large squawking macaws, one chartreuse and one bright read perched upon a large decorative piece of iron. “Who’s a pretty boy? “ One parrot asks. It sends a shiver down Michele’s spine.

On the sofa, which is just as bright red as the parrot or the rug tacked on over carpet, is Sara. She’s wearing the purple teddy that always makes him hard. She’s wearing her best Lucite heels, and chugging directly from a bottle of Gallo Family wine. The big bottle. “Mickey!”

* * *

 

“No!” Michele shouldn’t have accepted the wine. Everything about the situation made the hair stand up on the base of his neck.

But Sara…God, Sara…Got up from the sofa, and pushed him down onto the cushions. His skin and his clothes clung to the sofa much like the soles of his feet. Everything was matted with thick white dog hair. He’d only been sitting for a moment, but his slacks and shirt were covered in it.

The fucking dog kept trying to jump up into his lap like it was one of the little toy poodles that Emil’s mom kept. It was cute when they did it, but it was really annoying when a seventy pound dog tried to do it.

Seung-Gil put the dog in one of the bedrooms while Sara kept talking.

“I’ll be right here with you the whole time. I’ll suck you off.”

He almost considered it. Sara rarely gave him oral. She cried and complained that it reminded her too much of what she did out of necessity, and she _loved_ him, and did they _have_ to do dirty things if they _loved_ each other.

“I’ll get you ready.”

“Ready?”

Seung-Gil flips his hair over his shoulder in a manner that is effeminate and asks him a question that is designed to worm its way under his skin and make him see red. It works, “Do I look like the kind of person who would get fucked?” 

“You’re not going to fuck me.”

“You mean to tell me that Czech boy lets you fuck him?” Seung-Gil’s mouth curls into a smile and it sends chills down his spine. How the fuck did he know about Emil? “That’s not what I would’ve gathered based upon your personality and overall,” he pauses to take a long draught of red wine. “Demeanor.” Seung gil silently scrutinizes him again, new information brought to light, as if he’s reanalyzing, calculating and recalculating.

Michele moves to get up from the couch, but he’s glued in place. Not by the weight of Sara pressed against him on the sofa. Not by the stickiness that seems to permeate the air and every surface that he touches here. Not by the searing, predatory stare that Seung-Gil gives him. But by the words that come next out of Sara’s mouth.

“He says he’ll give us a discount. Half off our rent this month.”

Which promptly makes him sit back down, turn to Seung-Gil, and ask, “Do you have anything stronger than wine?”

Seung gil procures a bottle of tonic and Vodka from the antique bar by the god forsaken parrots. “I’m sorry. This is all that mother has.”

“Speaking of which, is there a chance Mama Lee is going to,” Michele accepts the long tall glass of vodka, ice, and barest hints of seltzer. He takes a gulp, and shudders as it burns its way down his throat.

“We will have no interruptions,” Seung-Gil assures them. “She goes with my aunt to the casino every weekend. They get comped a hotel room.”

Michele shudders again without alcohol. He pinches his nose, and downs the rest of the glass.

* * *

 

Sara’s fingers are just like the rest of her. They’re long, and soft and sensual. They slide in so easily when they’re coated with Vaseline. They hit just the right spots. She presses against his stretched tight rim. She crooks her fingers, and hits a spot he’d only heard Emil _talk_ about. He never believed it was this good.

Michele wishes that he were downstairs with Sara. He wishes he could surrender to the pleasure completely, and come undone for Sara alone.

But the thick smell of smoke and incense combined with the scent of Vaseline makes him nauseous. For as good as the feeling of Sara’s fingers inside are, the sight of Seung-Gil leaning over and watching makes his stomach sour. He’s very intent on watching, feels the need to give his commentary, “add another.” And, “Not so fast.”

He works his hand up and down his cock until the head is flushed red with arousal. The fucking polka dot shirt and sweater vest stay on.

“Make yourself useful,” and then he’s crawling on his knees on the mattress toward Michele, who is helpless on his knees, ass in the air.

He’s pressing his cock to Michele’s clamped tight lips.

Behind him Sara giggles. “I bet you’re so good at it Mickey. Lemme see.”

She hits _that_ spot, and a moan is torn out from him. Seung-Gil wastes no time shoving his cock into his mouth and forcing him to suck. Michele gags on it almost instantly. Seung-Gil’s cock is thicker than his own. So, impossibly thick that it hits the back of his throat, and he has to make the conscious effort to relax, to swallow, to remember that rent was on the line.

Seung-Gil is relentless. He grabs Michele by the hair, and thrusts up into his mouth, as if he wants him to gag on his cock repeatedly.

“Is he good?” Sara asks. “He looks good.”

“Stop talking,” Seung-Gil interjects. “You’re here to keep him from bolting, not make me go soft.”

As if to punctuate his statement, he thrusts harder into Michele’s mouth. Contrasted to the harsh and unforgiving way that he uses his mouth, Seung-Gil caresses the side of his face in a way that feels tender.

It makes Michele whine around Seung-Gil’s cock.

“Move,” Seung-Gil orders Sara simply.

* * *

 

Seung-Gil considered for a moment what would be the best position in which to fuck Michele. If he were on his back, he could watch him bite his lip. He could watch him tremble, and watch tears form in his eyes as he pushed in slowly. It was clear from the way that he gasped, and the way that he seemed so embarrassed by what Sara did to him, that he hadn’t done it this way before.

On the other hand, with Michele on his back, his mouth and his cock were positioned in such a way that he’d have to interact with Sara. He’d have to look at her fleshy breasts, and her big vacant violet eyes.

If he were on his stomach, Seung-Gil could dig the tips of his fingers into his ass. He could watch his hole twitch around him. It’s a difficult call.

“Turn over,” he orders Michele finally.

He runs his hands across Michele’s hot skin. He twists his nipples until Michele can’t hold back pained cries of “Ow,” and “fucking sadist.”

Seung-Gil doesn’t listen. He can hear the way his complaints are peppered with dark moans that betray his own words. He presses the pads of his thumbs into his hips, and his stomach. He runs his nails down his abdominal muscles. He likes this. Fucking men who think they’re too good to take cock.

A dark hand accented with acrylic nails reaches out for Michele’s cock, softened by his rough treatment of his body.  He slaps her hands away.

“You can stay, but only if you keep quiet.”

“Don’t talk to her that wa-“

Seung-Gil grabs him by the base, and pumps his cock once, twice, before testing the weight of his balls in his hands. He rubs at his perineum. It’s just enough to get him to shut up. It’s just enough to reignite the fire.

Sara leans in to kiss him. That’s when takes himself by the base and presses in.

Every muscle in Michele’s body protests. Seung-Gil grabs him up by the hips, and presses against him. “Relax,” he growls.

“How the fuck am I supposed to relax with a dick in my ass!” he all but shrieks.

Then, keeping the girl around proves useful. Kind of.

She bends down over him, and lets her breasts hang over his face. She pulls them through the lace teddy and lowers a dark brown nipple to his mouth. “Mickey,” she coos. “Baby brother. Let sissy take care of you.”

Michele latches on with a whimper. With his other hand, he cups her other breast. His entire body immediately relaxes around him.

The problem being that _she_ makes him almost go soft. He has to screw his eyes shut and focus on the _tight-wet_ an unrelenting heat. He has to thrust in fast, and hard, and think about how sore Michele’s going to be when they’re done. He has to grab onto whatever bits of muscle and skin that he can find, and hold on so that tomorrow, when the rent is paid and Michele’s life is back to normal, and he’s watching his sister fuck other men while he cries. He’s going to remember that Seung-Gil fucked him.

Seung-Gil gets a good momentum going. His pace is brutal, and he’s so overeager with each thrust to begin the next. Michele is so tight. So hot.

He opens his eyes to see Sara in his peripheral vision. In slow motion, with long acrylic nails, it looks like she wants to reach out for him. Touch him. That’s not part of the deal. He spreads his fingers wide, watches his palm touch her face, and pushes her away, in a gesture that is equally tinged with surreal, slowed down qualities.

“Fucking asshole,” she spits.

He doesn’t bother to react. He simply moves in to make his claim on Michele’s body. He sucks big gangly purple marks on his neck. He bites the lobe of his ear until Michele sobs, all the while pounding away at his red and abused rim. “You like this don’t you?”

Michele doesn’t respond. Through the tears and the moans he calls for Sara.

“I’m the one fucking you. You like it don’t you?”

Seung Gil takes his cock into his hand. He’s leaking pre-come. The glide of his foreskin over the head is smooth like silk. He decides in an instant, he’s sucking him off next month, when the rent is due again. He works it at the same pace he snaps his hips, quickly, brutally. It doesn’t take long for Michele to spill into his hand.

He turns over to see Sara, parting the lace of her teddy once again to touch herself. Her long fingers tangled with Michele’s while he fucks him through his orgasm.

Seung-Gil is close, but he hasn’t gotten his money’s worth yet. He pulls out, and straddles Michele’s hips. He moves up Michele’s chest, and doesn’t care that Sara stays put with two fingers plunged deep inside. She looks at him with half lidded eyes and whispers, “so dirty.”

She’s disgusting.  

With one knee on either side of Michele’s face, he demands, “suck.”

Michele looks as if he’s on the edge of tears again, but his enthusiasm betrays him. He swallows Seung-Gil down once more as if he were made for this. He keeps swallowing, despite the fact that Seung-Gil starts coming, and can’t stop shooting cum.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Sara moans beside them, and whimpers softly like she’s crying signifying her own orgasm.

Correction.

He’s almost perfect.

* * *

Seung-Gil changes into a long red silk robe. It’s wrinkle and faded in the way that antique fabrics often are. It has a big embroidered Yin and Yang symbol on the back. The thread is cracked and warped in the way that patches often do with age.

Seung-Gil smokes a little cigar, the kind with pinched ends and smell like cherries. His bangs are clipped up on the crown of his head. He whispers to Michele while Sara is in the bathroom, “come back alone sometime. We can do business again. Or, you can pay your rent on time.”

 

 


End file.
